BACKWARDS IN HIGH HEELS - The Impossible Art of Being Female, by Tania Kindersley and Sarah Vine, covered everything from moral relativism to motherhood, feminism to face cream. This blog started as an extension of the book.
It has evolved into a personal blog by Tania Kindersley, featuring food, horses, dogs, politics, daily life, random musings, an awful lot of human condition, and occasional moments of whimsy.

Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Glimpses of light; or, one for the Dog People

Rather madly, I decide to sit up all night and watch the election. I have worked out secretly in my mind that it will be an Obama landslide, and I must see if my psephological chops are still sharp.

Actually, this is mostly sheer wish thinking. And partly predicated on my inability to understand how anyone would vote for a man who once strapped his dog on the roof of his car and drove it to Canada.
I slept badly the night before, and am in the blank exhaustion stage of grief, so at first I do not enjoy it as much as I normally would. I start to get a little testy with Chuck Todd and his implements. Brian Williams cheers me up a bit; there is something about his wry intelligence which makes me feel better about almost everything.

Then, something lovely happens. Obama begins to win. He wins because the Americans, whom doughty Britons occasionally think of as rather antic and flighty where we are prosaic, who do not have our obsession with the Blitz spirit or the insane Dunkirk pride, are queuing round the block. Egregious partisans in some states are performing blatant voter suppression, but the voters will not be suppressed.

All the pundits except for Rachel Maddow have been muttering knowingly about the enthusiasm gap. Obama’s base, apparently, has no taste for the fight any more. The feckless young people will not pitch up; the African Americans are demoralised. It is the tea partiers and small staters and the pro-lifers who have the bit between their teeth. Peggy Noonan even writes a hilariously wrong column about how the President seems joyless, how his campaign is ‘small and sad and lost’.

In the end, the African American voters come out in greater numbers than ever before. Somebody says it is because they are so furious at the attempts to deny them. (Voter suppression gets targeted at non-white neighbourhoods, apparently, although my mind has to stretch and twang to comprehend that someone would do something so wicked.) The Latinos come out, and the Asians. The college-educated women, which is another vital demographic, marches out in droves, dreaming of Nellie Bly and the Pankhursts.

Suddenly, there are pictures of happy, smiling crowds. People are still queuing in some states, even though the result is now certain. Some of them waited for eight hours. I love them. Someone on the BBC jokes: if we had to wait ten minutes to vote, we would turn round and go home and have a nice cup of tea.

My Twitterstream explodes with joy. I send incoherent messages to people I have never met, congratulating them on the sweep of the battleground states. Mitt Romney ran an ugly campaign, and I am really pleased ugliness did not have its day. I imagine Paul Ryan consoling himself with a nice comforting copy of Atlas Shrugged.

At half past four, light-headed with tiredness, I go to bed. I cast a glance at the Pigeon’s bed, beside my desk. In 2008, she and her sister sat up with me all night. I say, out loud, to the empty space: ‘You would have been quite bored’. She liked the racing; not so keen on the politics. No barking and cartoon jumping for Cuyahoga County.

This morning, the air is light and mild, and the sun shines, and I spend two hours with the equines. I work the mare; I have a long conversation with the Horse Talker, which soothes me. I think about the election again; I realise that I am really, really delighted.

The World Traveller comes out and I tell her the result. She had missed the news. She smiles all over her face. ‘Oh,’ she says. ‘I am so glad.’ I too am glad. The very fact that there can be gladness feels like a bit of a sign. It is the first thing I have been properly glad about since Friday. I tried to watch the racing, but even the sight of the imperious Silviniaco Conti putting down his marker for a glittering future could not lift my heavy heart. Now, for the first time, there is a glimmer of lightness.

That’s the thing I have to look out for, the first gleam of light. I find that I have to concentrate very hard on learning loss, all over again. What do I do? Is it chicken soup or small acts of self-kindness or hot baths? Is it writing it down, giving sorrow words so the burdened heart will not break?

It is, I think most of all, looking for the light. I stare, stare, stare until the first watery ray is glimpsed. Then, I know I shall be able to bash on. It’s quite odd that the election of a man in a faraway country should prove to be that first glimmer. But it felt like a triumph of the better angels.

It’s not that everything shall now magically change, and Congress shall do good work, and perfect policies shall fall into place, and everyone shall have jobs. The political situation is much as it was. But there was something profoundly moving about those hopeful queues of voters; I am glad most of all that their stalwart endurance was rewarded.

My friend the Expatriate calls, from Santa Monica. ‘I think that Barack Obama is a proper person,’ she says. ‘I’ve been watching him and his wife, and I think they actually are really good people.’ I think so too. Good people don’t always make perfect politicians, but it is oddly reassuring sometimes to see that virtue is given its due. Obama could have taken his glittering Harvard degree and made millions in the corporate sector. Instead, he went to work with deprived communities on the south side of Chicago. That is a mark of character.

Plus, he is really nice to his dog.

As my sleep-deprived brain grows more whimsical, and I search hopelessly for my final sentence, I think perhaps that is why I am quite so pleased. It was a triumph for the Dog People. It was one for The Pigeon.

Today’s pictures:

Morning light:

The happy herd:

They really were amazingly contented today. They have settled so well, and relaxed into themselves, and that too is a ray of light:

I imagine if the old girl were still here she would be saying – you didn’t really think they would elect a man called Mittens?:

The first thing I did this morning was switch on the television, just in time for Obama to take the stage for his victory speech. I'll admit I did a little happy dance.I'm so glad to hear that it also brought you a little joy. And yes, a victory for the dog people. How, indeed, could they elect someone called Mittens. Thinking of you x

Very well said. So, so nice to see people take a stand with Obama. I'm still reeling at the blatant attempts to deny voters the right to cast their ballots. (Thought we got rid of that in the 1930s and 1960s.)

BirdPS Was reading your tweets to friends gathered here to watch the returns. Before the tide turned, when we were all reminding ourselves to believe the responsible numbers, it was especially comforting to think of the moral support overseas.

Funny you should say "one for the Dog People", for I was thinking before the results began rolling in that dogs would vote for Obama, if they could. Also, when Obama did win, I thought of you and how I hoped this brings you some cheer. I cannot believe you mentioned Cuyahoga Country, as I live only one county over. The state of Ohio got more attention than ever, and I am so proud of it's choice. As an ex-New Yorker, with an off the boat Swede for a father, it has been hard for me to understand the beliefs of many here, but last proved to me the things may really be changing, and not with our government, not just yet, but with our people. People who still came out in nearly the same numbers for Obama, people who voted for Elizabeth Warren, people who voted for same sex marriage in their state. I am SO proud. I may not be running off to Canada, or England, or Sweden just yet after all...

Never apologize for either whimsy or posting extra Pidge pics. You are pre-approved for both. Obama passed that law ages ago.

I find it extraordinarily funny that I live in New York and I found out that Obama won the election on your blog. Probably because a) it's funny and b) I'm in such a fog trying to get gas and being unable to that I've completely lost touch with what's going on in the world.

Wonderful post. It was indeed a win for The Pigeon. Thank goodness! I can now think of Paul Ryan consoling himself,thanks to you. :)And, thank goodness for Rachel Maddow. She has been the voice of reason during this campaign.

I too madly stayed up - I remember going to bed when Gore seemed to have it in the bag and was not making that mistake again!! Went to bed a seven, quite mad but very happy. Feeling a little jet lagged when I emerged from my bed at 1030am. Romney is scarey but Ryan is terrifying. They do not seem to care about the ordinary people at all and are quite happy to lie and distort facts. If you were not born rich, tough, that is your problem and "our" gods will.

I hope this good news will lift your soul a little and remember we come for the whimsy and beautiful face.Ruth

A brilliant post. I live in Wisconsin -- the first of the swing states that showed that maybe, just maybe, Obama would win. We are a state of good people, good animals, good cheese. We value all of that. Beautiful country too, though so different than yours! (I hiked across Scotland a few years back -- absolutely in awe of your Right to Hike legislation, permitting me to go... anywhere!) But with the same sense of right and fair. Same rough weather, same hardy spirit.

I stayed up too, afraid to go to bed & wake up to "bad news". Somewhere in the middle, when Obama and Romney seemed way too close, I couldn't bear it, left the TV on in the other room & played turbo solitaire on the laptop (as if THAT would make any difference!).At 5:30 a.m.(Belgium time), my Miami sister emailed me OBAMA JUST WON. Of course, Florida being Florida, there were still people standing outside polling stations waiting to vote (it would have been 11:30 p.m. there!) My (Dutch) husband also can't understand why people would stand in line like this.In the end stupid Florida missed the boat. The votes, which, apparently now have been counted (with Obama edging out Romney), weren't "needed" to assure victory.And....there are now more women in the U.S. Senate than ever before. (Plus all those nasty rape defining, pro-choice limiting men got dumped.)Sorry to go on so. Feeling very giddy.

LinkWithin

HORSEBACK UK

HorseBack UK is a charity for returning servicemen and women which I support. It features regularly on the blog, so if you want to find out more about it, just click on HorseBack UK in the Labels section below.

The Book

Click on the picture to get to our Amazon listing. Backwards in High Heels is available in paperback for the most excellent price of £6.99. And that's quite enough vulgar self-promotion.

About Us

Tania Kindersley is a writer living in North-East Scotland with one big black dog. Sarah Vine is a writer and journalist living in North-West London with one husband, two children and one small brown dog.

Together, we wrote Backwards in High Heels - The Impossible Art of Being Female, which inspired us to start this blog.

Housekeeping note

I love your comments and read them all. At the beginning of this enterprise, I did try to reply to them, but time is now too pressing. If there are direct reader questions, I will generally answer them in the main blog.

I am a great believer in the free exchange of information. If you would like to use text or pictures from this blog, please do so, as long as you make an attribution. A link would also be very much appreciated.

The Duchess - pseudonym for extremely grand dog. She died in 2011, but she is still with us in spirit.The Pigeon - pseudonym for absurdly soft dog.

Red the Mare - chestnut thoroughbred, who arrived in the spring of 2012, and took over the entire blog.

The Young Gentleman - fellow-about-the-place, once afraid of horses, whose sole ambition is now to ride Red the Mare.Virginia the Pig - a Gloucester Old Spot PigThe Compound - where we all live.The Hill - the view of which is photographed each day, for the record.

Guest stars:

The Older Brother.

The Younger Brother.

The Older Niece.

The Man in the Hat, Older Niece's other half.

The Man of Letters - literary mentor.

The Playwright - saver of sanity.

The Beloved Cousin - family in the south.

The Old Fella - husband of the Beloved Cousin. Horseman.

The Political Operative - vital for my political geekery.

The Entrepreneur - an entrepreneur, who wishes I had more submarines in my books.